


Up North, The Winter's Long

by orphan_account



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Author Is Sleep Deprived, Author is an equstian bare with her horse shit, Author is obsessed with animals, BAMF Merlin (Merlin), Cryomancer, Cryomancer Merlin, Dogs, Dragons, Griffins, Healers, Horses, Hurt Merlin (Merlin), Ice, Ice Magic, Ice phoenixes, Kelpies, Merlin is a Little Shit, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), Multi, No beta we die like dykes, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Powerful Merlin (Merlin), Protective Merlin, Quaterstaffs, Really broken irish too, Really broken scottish, Sad Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Scotland, Shapeshifter Merlin, Skinwalker Merlin, Snow and Ice, Snowlions, Taiga biome, Tecnically, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, Unicorns, healer Merlin, jackalopes, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-12-01 18:56:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20867012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: On a visit, King Muriel of the Scottish highland kingdom of Tynian claims one of his nieces, rescued by Camelot and cared for by Merlin, because their kingdoms healer has died. But Merlin will have none of that, offering to go in the girls stead. It might not be too bad, safe for he fact that pestilence and famine combined with the cruel cold and war, has death waiting, maw open wide.





	1. Prolouge: The Beginning Of Winter

**Author's Note:**

> This idea came from... Uh... Yes.

**°l||l°l||l°l||l°l|Courtroom, Camelot|l°l||l°l||l°l||l°**

The great raven haired king seemed to stare into the soul of Camelot's own monarch. His face, an expressionless mask, his eyes, a haunting grey.z

“Mah kingdom needs a healer. Those burds,” he nodded towards the two terrified looking brunettes huddled by Gaius, “Belang tae us by heritage. But tois mooths is tay much tae feed. We're bringin' Darcy wi' us.”

Uther's left ear twitched, the only reaction he gave to King Muriel.

“So be it that.”

There were some mildly horrified gasps around the courtroom. 

Arthurs jaw seemed too drop at his father, while Merlin's eyes widened. He felt his heart skip a beat.

How could someone do such a horrible thing, how the hell dare the king? He thought only about the threatry, not the kids.

These girls. He'd taken care of them like a brother, hell, like a farther. They were each other's best friends, the only thing they had in a world that had left them on their own. They were seven for god's sake!

They sobbed, crying and trying to clutch onto each other. The knight's and servant, and those of the court that still had a heart looked on in pity and sorrow, even slight shame.

He watched, as if in slow motion, as one of Muriel's men stepped forward and seized the smaller of the two by the upper arm. Panic and a powerful protectiveness coursed through his veins with more power than his blood.

Violet looked desperately up at Gaius, a silent beg for him to do something. The old man looked at her with sympathy, shaking his head, and a vice-like grip coiled around Merlin's heart.

“No!” 

The words forced themselves out before he could stop, and the room went silent. Arthur opened his mouth to yell at him, and Uther looked personally offended. But Muriel's eye, despite his face being cold as stone, twinkled in curiosity.

“Merlin what ar-” he cut Arthur off.

“Don't take her, take me,” he cried, desperate. Gaius looked horrified, Gwens hands flew to her mouth. The knights looked on in worry, Gwaine especially so. Artur was the worst.

A look of hurt uncertainty, like Merlin was betraying him and he was still in denial.

Muriel lifted his head, “An' wa is 'at, loon?” His deep voice rumbled.

“Because it would make no sense to take an untrained kid, too young to start practicing. I'm already the physicians apprentice,” he reasoned. “You will not have to waste time and resources waiting and training.”

The room was silent, and his ears ringing. He knew Arthur, and the knights were yelling at him. Gwen, even Gaius too. 

Artur was a prince. He did not beg. He just… asked his father to not give Merlin over to Tynian of all places. To not let him go with King Muriel of all people. To be a healer of all things.

But then Muriel exchanged looks with Uther, who gave a cut nod, and his gaze fell back on the warlock. 

“Th' agreement is sealed.”

  
  


**°l||l°l||l°l||l°l|Physicians Chambers, Camelot|l°l||l°l||l°l||l°**

“Merlin, what are you thinking!?” Gaius yelled at his apprentice, whose face was set in determination. 

Said boy looked up at his mentor, blue eyes sad. He opened his mouth to speak, only to startle as the door crashed open.

“No! Don't go!” Guinevere shrieked as she flung herself around her friend, enveloping him in a desperate hug. Merlin patted her hair apologetically.

Beyond the open door, his eyes caught Arthur's. The prince was silent for a long time, as master and servant just watched each other, jotting down every little feature of the other in their heads.

“Sorry,” he mouthed and the prince just shook his head, turned on his heel and then he was gone.

**°l||l°l||l°l||l°l|The courtyard, Camelot|l°l||l°l||l°l||l°**

Muriel watched as the scrawny boy came shuffling out. He'd been impressed by the courage the kid had, offering himself up, but he still doubted how good the decision was.

The boy was skin and bones, would only get thinner. The unforgiving cold of his kingdom would be cruel to him, the herbs scarce at best.

But he sensed the magic in the boy, and he knew who it really was.

A shame that Uther was so scared as to not let the boy use his talents.

“Emrys,” the king called, and the boy startled. 

Merlin's steely cobalt eyes slowly met the kings orbs of pure granite. 

Panic chilled him for a moment when suddenly he realized that Camelot was the only kingdom with a ban on magic. 

“Y-yes sire?” he asked, tentative, voice hitching. 

Muriel was terrifying, at 6'8'', 230 lbs of pure muscle, littered with battle scars and worn from the frost. But he was a noble man, honest and serene in what he stood for.

Muriel allowed his hard mask to slip for a second, giving the boy a reassuring look. The kid had to be terrified from living right under Uther's nose. 

“Ah hiner ye will wark stoaner. Mah Coont Sorcerer is agin' an' nae weel, she requires an apprentice suin,” the king smiled, a knowing look in his eyes.

No, great power should never be caged. It should be worked with, befriended. Trusted.

Merlin was dumbfounded for a second, before bowing at the man. “Thank you sire,” he whispered.

Face stealing over once more, the bear of a man turned, gesturing to one of his horses that had been brought for this purpose. 

The white mare stomped the ground, huge hooves clanking, the abundant feathers ruffling.

“Kierra is yoors tae ride, bairn,” he rumbled, going back to his own stallion.

Merlin watched the king -his new king, he supposed- leave to mount a large dapple shire horse.

He turned back to Kierra, a sturdy, burly clydesdale, with the most pristine white fur he'd ever seen, white hooves, and blue eyes. She was gorgeous, he decided, petting her soft pinkish muzzle.

Albino, he realized.

She seemed to like him, nickering softly and blowing air in his face. Which was good, as they'd be spending the next 20 days together, and that was if all went well.

The gear she wore was so different from what he was used to seeing and cleaning. Gone was the rough, professional looking stuff, replaced with impressive handmade winter gear. 

Even her shoes were different, Merlin noted as he attached his bag of personal items to her saddle, and the one with medicine from Gaius to her other side. The shoes had two slightly sharpened bumps by the angle of the wall, for traction, he supposed. On the cobblestone ground now though, she was all but tiptoeing.

He patted her shoulder, before swinging into the saddle, a tight hold on her hempen reins. Despite what the prat said, he was a rather skilled rider, especially considering his background.

The thought of his now former master sent a pang through his heart, and he looked up in the direction of the window he would no longer look out of.

If that was Artur or not, he didn't know, but someone was watching.

In the Camelotian fall, he felt too warm in the thick jacket that his mentor, -former, he mentally noted, had given him, but knew that it might not even be enough wen they got further north.

There was no actual saddle below him. A skinsaddle instead. The stirrup leathers were made off strips of red deer leather, while the irons were of hard metal that would no doubt become cold beyond belief.

It had two girths, also from that same leather, and lined in the same fur that made up his saddle. From the thickness and texture, and shurrade of colors, he guessed wolf. 

She wore a martingale of thin hempen rope, leading up to a mixed leather and hempen made bridle, with no bit, and lined in wolf fur. Her breast collar was the same, all leather and fur.

Merlin studied the bridle longer, fascinated by the craftsmanship. 

The throatlatch was of hempen, but wrapped for most of the way in fur. It ended on her cheek, directly below the ear in a small metal ring. The headstall and cheek-piece were of leader, lined in fur, and the noseband was on even thinner hempen, which seemed to have worn off her fur. The browband was the most fascinating by far. Small metal rings connecting the ones on her cheek, interlocking like a chain. In the middle, falling down to her forehead and almost covered by her forelock, was a pendant of a lion.

The snowlion of Tynian, a snowflake in it's jaws.

He patted her neck.

Muriel's voice startled him out of his daze, booming and commanding like thunder.

“Men, waur movin' it!” 

Merlin took a deep, shaky breath, and spurred Kierra forward, refusing to look back.

**°l||l°l||l°l||l°l|Arthur's Chambers, Camelot|l°l||l°l||l°l||l°**

Angrily wiping his prickling eyes, Arthur watched as his manservant's form disappeared in the dozens of men King Muriel had brought. 

No man is worth his teas, especially not one who was alive, he mentally berated himself, yet he could not shake the sorrow he felt as he watched his best friend go, mounted on a giant horse whiter than snow.

Gwen had been with him, but she had dried her tears, and gone to go speak with the two girls, Darcy and Violet. In Merlin's absence, she would have to be their main grown up.

At least, he thought bitterly, they're still together.

But now, his Merlin was going miles upon miles away, disappearing far up north, where famine and pestilence reigned, war and death watching their siblings close. 

Be could not help but pray that the idiot would be fine.


	2. 'Round The Gentle Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically just a filler chapter, but we get to meet some important side characters in this one, so theres that

**[BC]°l||l°l||l°l||l°l|Journey day I/XX|l°l||l°l||l°l||l°**

Merlin tied Kierra to a branch, petting her.

“Sae, yoo're th' bairn 'at offered heemself up?” a voice startled him out of his silence. 

He turned, eyes meeting a young lady's own. Her eyes were a familiar stony grey.

She grinned at him, but then seemed to realize something as she stopped dead, eyes widening a little.

“Och hen, whaur ur mah manners. Aam Nanu, braw tae meit ye Emrys,” she purred, a knowing smile on her face.

Her accent was hard to discern, but it was simultaneously really interesting.

“Uh, Merlin,” he stuck out a hand which she grabbed and squeezed firly. 

“Merlin it is 'en.”

He smiled shyly at her, but then she yanked on his hand, pilling him along, her long grey cloak like dress with the huge sleeves ruffling around her, too heavy to actually billow.

Her hair was long and curly, dark brown, and her skin pale.

He followed as Nanu brought him towards one of the fires, and pulled him down as she sat, which in turn gauged reactions from the three others, all around his age.

The fire crackled, and he watched it dance, shrugging off his jacket in the heat. Nunu pulled her giant hooded winter dress off, revealing a far thinner white and blue dress.

Then, it seemed, she jumped into introducing him to her friends.

“That's Finlay,” she nodded to cute looking, slim boy. He had short, straight, brown hair and warm brown eyes. In greeting, the boy waved a rough, nearly white skin. 

“Braw tae meit ye,” he smiled, and Merlin returned the greeting

Nanu went on, this time gesturing to a girl with long straight prematurely grey hair. She had the same eyes as Finlay. 

“An' that's his sister,” that explained, “Emeline” Naunu grinned.

The girl, Emeline did the same wave as her brother, but said nothing.

“An-” she didn't get to finish, before the last boy interrupted her.

His eyes were jade, hair white enough to nearly rival Kierra's coat.

The flirtatious smirk he flashed Merlin, putting straight, white teeth on display had the brunette flush brightly.

“An' oi'm Camdyn, 'tis quite de pleasure ter meet yer lad.,” he grinned, and the other groaned. Merlin could easily assume from that, that this was a common approach this Camdyn had to others.

“I'm Merlin,” he introduced himself.

As the evening continued, rations of jerky and bred was handed out, happily eaten by the two dozen men. 

To think he was already more than 30 miles from home. 

As the night progressed, he spoke with the four, he ate, laughed, told stories, and generally just got to know these people. All done while his heart felt like bleeding, and he nearly felt ill with an emotion just short of depression.

When Nanu got up and announced she'd be heading to bed for the night, closely followed by the others, Merlin turned to the fire.

The boy watched the flames dance, the embers twinkle and go out. He wanted to go home. So that he could at least say goodbye right.

“Is somethin' wrang?” a gruff voice behind him startled Merlin out his trance-like state. He turned his head to look up at the- his king.

He stated even more when Muriel sat beside him, short sleeves and all. Never had he felt so… civil around a king. Ever. It was an odd but not exactly uncomfortable change, he decided.

“I suppose,” the boy murmured, eyes shifting back to the fire, “that I'm just… homesick.” His voice was but a whisper.

Muriel seemed to look right into his soul, and for a moment, Merlin was sure he was in trouble, but then the king smiled and clasped Merlin's thinly clothes shoulder, eyes turning kinder. 

“It is in mah best wishes, lad,” he rumbled, voice calm borderline kind, and a very slight smile on his face, “'at ye will fin' Tynian a haem suin enaw. Aiblins nae yer rightful a body, but a body ye will be leal tay.”

Merlin smiled a little.

“Teel me somethin',” the king of the north said after a while of staring into the dancing fire and twinking embers.

He made a humming noise in the back of his throat, an invitation to continue.

“Ah ken ye woods protect th' prince ay Camelot wi' ye life, Emrys. but wa 'en gie up oan destiny tae keep a body lassie frae bein' taken awa'? Ye will hae tae relearn yer huir uv a life up North, ye ken”

Certainly not what he had expected.

Merlin took a moment to mull over it. There was the obvious answer; it had been an ‘in the moment sort of thing’ and he was really dreading leaving Arthur behind to go to an unfamiliar place, to do something he wasn't even great at, and another thing that had been forbidden for most of his life, but alas… That didn't seem right.

“I… I don't know Sire” he finally just settled on, shrugging slightly.

The kings chuckling startled him, the hand on his shoulder suddenly clapping him thrice even more so.

“Yoo'll dae jist braw, bairn.”

**[BC]°l||l°l||l°l||l°l|I Days Since Merlin's Departure|l°l||l°l||l°l||l°**

Athur caught himself almost calling out for Merlin once more, instead groaning and calling out for Lydon, his new servant.

The boy was alright he guessed. Not a full on bootlicker, just very cooperative. And mute. That was probably what grated his nerves the most, the silence.

But Lydon had an amused glint in his eyes, and a jesting smirk on his lips most of the time, so he supposed it wasn't all bad.

The skinny boy knocked the door twice, but didn't wait for a verbal answer before entering.

Arthur smiled, mildly amused by the ravens antics, yet caught himself in the act.

He cursed his father for not only sending his toad of a servant away, but replacing him with someone else within a few hours. He just wanted Merlin back, not thousands of miles away in a cold wasteland.

Lydon looked at him, a voiceless question as to why he was called shining in his chestnut eyes. 

“I wish to have dinner brought sooner than usual. I will be busy most of the afternoon,” he informed, to which the pale guy nodded, turned and left.

Athur could only sigh and turn back to the window, watching where Merlin had disappeared on the white horse, following dozens of men to an unfamiliar place ridden with magic.

He once more prayed for the safety of his now-former manservant, and that they would meet again some day.

And that that day would not be in the afterlife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Urgh, Nanu's dress cloak thing is hard to describe. This thing: https://armstreet.com/store/medieval-clothing/wool-grey-fantasy-coat-heritrix-of-the-winter is how it looks.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed.


End file.
